


Barbaric

by aph_polonya



Series: aphfallfandomweek2018 [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Oktoberfest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 17:50:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16246757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aph_polonya/pseuds/aph_polonya
Summary: Not everyone enjoys Oktoberfest as much as Germany





	Barbaric

**Author's Note:**

> Written for aphfallfandomweek 2018 day 3: festival

**Barbaric**

It was terrible. Absolutely terrible. A disgrace. And so much more horrible than France could ever have imagined. So why, _why_ had he agreed to this? Ah right, because Germany and Prussia had not stopped bringing it up until he had had no other choice but to give in and agree. And now he was standing on a wooden bench, wearing an absolutely ridiculous outfit while thousands of loud, drunk Germans where singing and screaming around him. Prussia stood next to him, waving a beer mug in his hand while yelling the lyrics of a song France didn’t know (and didn’t like) at the top of his lungs. Hesse was jumping around on the bench like a maniac and Germany himself was involved in a drinking competition with Brandenburg. The entire tent was packed with people wearing Dirndl and Lederhosen, holding mugs containing beer or, even worse, wine mixed with sparkling water (a drink that should be a criminal offense in France’s opinion). It was full, it was loud and just so plain _atrocious_ that even spending a weekend alone with England sounded desirable. In short, it was Oktoberfest, and France hated it with a passion.

It had been two hours since they arrived now, and France couldn’t imagine that it could get any worse. Prussia had been kicked out an hour ago because he had threatened Bavaria (who had started throwing insults and later punches at him) and everyone else around him was completely wasted. Austria looked ready to fall asleep any second, Saxony could barely hold himself up and Germany was jumping up and down on the bench while grinning happily (which, for some reason, slightly terrified France, mainly because a smile looked just plain _strange_ on Germany’s face). It was awful, and France just wanted to leave.

After another two hours, Germany _finally_ seemed to realize that France really wasn’t having a good time. Maybe it was the fact that he just sat there while everyone else danced, or maybe it was the displeased expression on his face that gave him away. Whatever it was, Germany obviously noticed it. He lightly touched France’s shoulder and asked: “Are you okay?” He looked concerned and, despite the fact that he was completely wasted, seemed to worry about France. For a second, France didn’t know what to say. Germany _did_ seem to have fun, and he didn’t want to spoil that. It was clear as day that Germany had hoped France would enjoy it too and France didn’t want to hurt his feelings. But then again, he really wanted to leave this ghastly place. Maybe he could fake being sick? But Germany would definitely notice, and France’s dishonesty would hurt him even more. So maybe telling the truth _was_ the best option. _Well,_ France thought. _I have no choice but to find out._ “France, are you okay?” Germany repeated. France sighed. “Not really, no.” Germany looked even more worried now, but before he could say anything, France continued. “I don’t really like it here, to be honest.” Germany’s expression turned from concerned to utterly bewildered, as if it was impossible for him to imagine that someone could _not_ enjoy jumping drunkenly up and down on a bench. “Do you want to leave?”, he asked. “Yes, I actually do.” Germany looked quite unhappy at that. He pondered for a second, before sighing defeatedly. “Okay”. It was clear that he didn’t like the idea of leaving already, but he didn’t complain as he said goodbye to everyone around him. Then he took France’s hand and left the crowded tent and the loud music and the drunk people behind. They walked in silence for a while, until they were as far away from the crowd as possible. “Better now?”, Germany asked. “Much better.” “Was it really that terrible?” “Yes”. “What was your problem with it? I mean, it’s Oktoberfest, everyone likes Oktoberfest.” “It’s barbaric.” “Barbaric?” “Yes. Come on, thousands of drunk people jumping up and down on benches while wearing silly outfits and drinking until they throw up? I’d call that barbaric.” Germany actually looked offended. “It’s not barbaric, it’s…” He seemed lost for words. “Barbaric.” France finished for him. Germany was silent for a while. They kept walking until they made it to the taxi. Then Germany broke the silence. “You…you really think it’s barbaric?” “Yes.” “ _Barbaric?_ ” “For the last time, yes. But I could also say uncultured, if you prefer that.” “No thanks. Besides”, he smirked. “I thought that word was strictly reserved for England, wasn’t it?” “Well, you’re both uncultured!”, France replied defensively. Germany actually laughed at that. Neither of them spoke for a while. “So”, Germany asked as they got out of the car. “Tomorrow again?” “God forbid, no!”


End file.
